Recovering Heroism
by 32557
Summary: Fanfic centered around Bucky's recovery post CA: The Winter Soldier. With the help of a small hero, Bucky discovers he can be a hero again. Starting small. (Avengers Involved)
1. Chapter 1

This is my first time posting a fanfic... ever... Usually I just start them, have some fun with them, and drop 'em... Any kind of feedback would be very much appreciated.

* * *

Her tongue was stuck between her teeth as she drew the line with the slowly drying out sharpie.

She jumped, turning around to the wall she'd stood with her back to.

"James! James, only exactly one foot 7 until I'm there!" she jumped in joy, squeaking slightly.

She heard the chains and tags of his collar rattle, and knew the small dog had jumped off the bed and was now running over to her.

He was still a pup, but he was growing, and she found herself jealous of just how quickly he grew.

The dog barked sitting down by her feet.

"You're hungry 'eh? You know how it goes though, we gotta see dad first. Then comes breakfast." she picked the dog up to hold it under her arm, on her hip.

The young girl picked up her keys from the scarred wooden table and ran out the door, the dog now held tightly against her chest as she sped down the side walks, past parks, startling some walkers and jumping over obstacles to get to their destination as quickly as possible.

"Alight, Jamie, do that- your thing." she couched by the large doors, heaving slightly as she looked at the puppy.

He trotted around her lazily, clumsily, the same way he did every day. And just like every day, she heard some 'aaaw's and 'you again's.

She peeked around the corner carefully, to see all the guards busy petting and ogling her pup.

Everything was going according to plan, like every day. And so she snuck past the five men, and sped out of their field of vision before strolling down one hallway after the other.

She had no interest in any of the art exhibited in the beautiful museum, all she cared about was one grey wall.

And as she stood before it, she adjusted the military green cap on her small head, stood straight, and then saluted. The small step of hers echoing through the large hall.

"Sir." she greeted the images bravely.

And just like every day, she fell to her knees, and began sobbing. She sobbed over the men fallen, over the men she wished she'd known. About the men she wished were her fathers, about the images she wished she had chance to idolize. About her loneliness, and how lost she was. Begging them for help, to give them some of their bravery some day, begging them for courage and heart, in silence.

Until she heard the small paws run towards her, followed by the heavy steps of two guards.

"You again. Get out." Like every day.

Like every day she was grabbed by the collar of her oversized zip up hoodie. And struggled as they dragged her out.

And one last time she read the name. "James Buchanan 'Bucky' Barnes." and smiled as she let them pull at her, drag her bottom to the gates, and drop her there, with her dog.

She sighed heavily as she got up and pulled at the collar of her hoodie for it not to continue to choke her so.

"Let's go get some food, Jamie." she mumbled quietly as she picked up the dog again. It whined slightly and licked her hand as it wagged its tail.

* * *

Her hands on her knees and the dog now secured below her hoodie, by her belly she heaved, trying to get more air than possible in her lungs. She slid down the stinking concrete wall and sat in the alley, near the exit for a quick escape in case the fat man had managed to keep up with her enough to keep her in sight and know where she'd gone.

"Jamie." she cooed as she pulled the fresh, warm loaf of bread out from her wide sleeve. The dog poked its head out from underneath the hoodie as she split the crusty goodness in half. She held one half up to the dog as she tore a piece off her own, with trouble, it was awfully chewy inside.

The dog had devoured his half insanely quickly, as she was still picking pieces off of her own to relish between her teeth.

She chuckled as the pup licked its nose looking at her. She was about to hand what little of hers was left to it, when someone kicked her legs. The dog began to growl and step back as she felt fear rise within her.

But she quickly realised, as she heard a loud thump and her dog jumped, startled, that she was not kicked, but someone had fallen over her. She gasped, dropping the bread and reaching for the puo out of instinct, rising to her feet as she stared at the dark figure lying on the pavement.

Her breathing was ragged and she was shaking terribly, unable to move, or avert her eyes.

Were they dead? Did she kill them?

She'd never seen a dead man, but she was sure this was one.

She jumped, squeaking when they groaned, pressing a previously limp hand on the ground to lift themselves up. She heard their teeth grind as they lifted their upper body up.

But they broke back down, and instinctively her hand moved to reach out for them, but stopped.

She stuffed the dog into her hoodie, zipping it up to secure the warm, moving bump beneath.

"A- are you okay?" she took a step forward, stepping right onto the bread, now squishy from the wet ground of yesterday's rain.

She heard another groan and a loud metal clang, and her hands sped to cover her ears as she closed her eyes. There in the darkness she saw the images of the smiling man, his name embedded in stone, telling her to be brave.

Her eyes began tearing and almost instantly the tears fell, rolling down her cheeks.

Shaking she extended her hand, lowering onto her knees to lean over and shake the man's shoulder.

"Please, don't be dead."

She heard people walk past the entrance of the alley, the rare looks they spared her were quickly averted, she knew.

Another groan, more quiet, less aggravated, more gentle and in her mind, he was not dying anymore.

So she wiped away the tears and looked up at the grey skies. It would rain soon.

"I'll be right back, don't move, it'll be just a second!" she scrambled back onto her feet, and ran, ran fast as she could for the third time that day.

She hopped down the stairs of the small shop of useless junk located under the apartment complex she lived in.

"Ma'am! Ma'am it's time you sell me that red cart of yours! I have important business to take care of!" she puffed out her chest much as she could as she breathed heavily. Standing surrounded by junk, rusty metal figures, cutlery and ancient cheap furniture.

The old woman behind the counter pushed up her glasses leaning over the counter to be able to look at her.

"How much this time?" she asked sceptically.

The girl gulped, she hadn't thought this far. But when did hero's ever? She wanted to be a hero, and this was her chance!

Her hands reached into her pockets but there was no change. She looked outside, at the small flat red cart. A wagon that said 'Radio Flyer' on the side in white letters that were beginning to peel from the red.

"All I have is this." she zipped down her hoodie to reveal the heckling puppy.

The woman's eyes grew with curiosity, and temptation, and she learned over the counter even further, and the girl almost thought she'd fall. Her face was wrinkly, old, her hair pulled back into a bun with what looked like two chopsticks to the girl.

"So?" the girl urged, quietly. On one hand praying she'd say no, on the other... all hero's made sacrifices, no matter how painful.

"His name is James, I think he's a labradoodle." she mumbled looking at the pup.

And before she knew it he was taken from her, grabbed with two hands around his torso, under his forelegs.

"Oh no, dear this is a German Shepherd, a fine exemplar at that. Yes, my love, get your damned cart." the woman mumbled as she oogled the dog as if looking for damage on some precious charm.

The girl frowned but stomped out, grabbing an umbrella by the door, and taking the cart with her as she ran, again.

Two blocks she ran, her heels occasionally kicking the cart behind her, nearly causing her to fall on her faxe.

But to her relief the man really hadn't moved. He was still lying there, face down, dark as a shadow in the narrow alley.

She rubbed her hands together, and tucked the umbrella under her arm. Without saying another word, but groaning as she lifted the man onto the cart. She had trouble, pushing and pulling at him endlessly. It felt like it had taken an hour to her.

When he was finally positioned, his legs hanging over the end with the long handle she pulled on, she opened the umbrella. He was unconscious, she hoped, he was certainly breathing.

She crossed his limp arms and placed the now open umbrella there, to hide him best she could.

His hair was hanging in his face, it was fairly long. He wore large black boots, pants of a material she'd never seen before, a black wife beater, and a leather jacket.

It began to rain as she still stared at the odd sight, something was missing.

She let out a happy gasp when she took the hat of her head, and placed it on his.

It was too small, but the brim hid his face even better.

She wrapped her hands around the handle of the cart, and pulled. But he didn't move. She groaned, trying again and the rusty wheels began to turn.

One block. Two blocks.

Dozens of people stopped conversing to silently stare at her, and her cart.

"Oh no." the girl stared at the stairs. They suddenly seemed endless, the five of them, leading to the door of the apartment complex.

She looked at the unconscious man, and the entrance of the small shop she'd gotten the cart from. The woman inside stared with wide eyes, and quickly pulled her curtains shut.

The girl sighed, she'd doubted she would've helped in the first place.

She turned the cart around, and pushed it up against the starea, for the man to be with his back to them. She climbed over it, and put her hands under his arms, to begin pulling. "This might hurt. I'm sorry."

Ten minutes later, of her nearly giving up, nearly crying, stair after stair, she fished her keys out of her pocket and unlocked the door.

Only to be greeted with another, longer, flight of stairs.

She wiped the rain off her forehead, sighing what sounded more like a sob as she pulled him across the dirty floor, almost the way she had been only that morning, and every morning before.

She was halfway there, another ten minutes later, when her hands slipped from his wet jacket and she fell back, hitting her head on a stair.

Her hand clamped over the aching spot on the back of her head, as they both laid there, on the stairs. She sobbed, her elbows on the sides of her face, trying to hide it and subdue the pain. She was angry. She wanted to stop being a hero, return the cart, the umbrella, and the man, and get her puppy back. She wanted to curl up with him and sleep. She wanted to stop being a hero.

But heroes didn't just stop. And she couldn't let this chance go. She couldn't leave this man out in the cold.

She moved finally, to pull him up stair after stair again. When she saw his face, her hat had fallen off his head and his hair fallen back.

His face… it was dirty, he had a stubble. He was a normal man.

That was the least she'd expected. She didn't even know what she's expected.

He was her ticket to heroism until now, she realised, not a man, just a chance.

Now that he was a man, she found her strength again, and pulled tugged using the last of her strength. Until he was in front of her door, and she broke down, her knees colliding with the ugly chess tile painfully, panting.

She caught her breath slowly, and remaining on her knees she unlocked the door pushing it open, creaking quietly.

She pulled him in and shut the door loudly, stumbling to sit on the armchair by the window.

Her eyes were heavy as she tiredly brushed her wet hair out of her face and gazed at the body on her floor. She'd saved him, she was sure.


	2. Chapter 2

She awoke to the strike of lightning, and thunder roaring. It was dark, completely. She yawned, and slowly rose from the uncomfortable chair she had been sprawled over. She dragged herself over to the front door, her feet not once lifting off the ground, in the small converse she was slowly growing out of.

Her keys still pulling down her hoodie heavily she closed the door behind herself and slowly descended one stair after the other, yawning, rubbing her eyes. It was still pouring outside, and she felt a lot like crying again, her dog was down there, with that mean old lady, and he was scared of thunder goddamnit.

When she opened the door to hear the rain clearly, she also heard the pup's howling.

"Every town… has its ups and downs. Sometimes the ups, outnumber the downs…. but not in Nottingham…." One step after the other she walked to the shop, talking, trying to sing to herself. It was the only song she really knew, the only movie she'd ever seen. Robin Hood, a hero, the heroes this town had seemed too surreal, a myth, she never saw one of them, just the destruction they left behind. She was not a hero, as much as them.

Lightning struck again as she cupped her hands around her eyes to press her face against the dirty windows to look inside. Had she really just left James behind?

"Well I'm inclined to believe, if we weren't so down… we'd up and leave. We'd up and fly, if we had wings for flying." There he was in a box, a large one, jumping up and down to leave it, but it was too high for him.

"Can you see these tears we're crying?" she sighed moving away from the glass, dropping her head, and her hands to her sides. She slumped as she made her way back one staircase after the other and as usually without thinking she had an idea. "Is there some happiness for me?" She couldn't leave, but as she unlocked the door, it was only open for a moment, as she reached for the baseball bat and left again. As the door was shut by the wind, she remembered. There was a man, in her home, a man she'd saved, and didn't even know was alive.

"Not in Nottingham." That's what she always called her home, she couldn't leave it, it was her home, and for nothing would she leave it, or James. And so as she whispered to herself, the window shattered under her swing of the bat and she climbed in.

"Jamie, Jamie come here." she whispered to the pup as she picked him up. He howled and whined at the rain outside as she climbed out the window again, the shards cutting her knees this time as the dog struggling in her arms made it more complicated than it already had been.

"Calm down, be quiet, please." she picked up the bat, and ran. She stumbled up the stairs and into the apartment, closing the door behind herself quickly, as if someone were to follow her this late in the night.

She let the dog down but quickly grabbed it by the collar again. She was frightened, and didn't know why. As her eyes adjusted to the darkness of the flat, she realised the man wasn't on the floor where she'd left him, and so she ran to the bathroom of the small place, to sit in the bathtub with the dog on her lap. She held him close, and kissed his head.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." she mumbled leaning her head against the cool porcelain.

She wasn't worried about moving, and accidentally turning the water on, they had no water anyway, they had just as much water as electricity. She felt a lump in her throat as she drifted back to sleep under lightning and thunder she loved, dreaming of Robin Hood and wings to fly.


	3. Chapter 3

Noise in the living room wasn't residue of the night before, and slowly left the phase of slumber to become awake entirely. She left the empty tub, the dog sleeping soundly by her feet, the door was still wide open, and she saw the man sit at the dining table. She sighed in relief, he was alive, moving even. But she squinted as she realised he was eating her last bit of food.

Sundays meant cereal, all day, sundays meant no thieving. It was sunday, and he was eating her Sunday.

"Hey!" she stumbled over the edge of the tub, just barely not falling on her face, catching herself on the open door.

She hesitated when he showed no response whatsoever, not even a familiar groan. He was sitting with his back to her. Slowly she crept closer, and even in the morning's gloomy light, he was just a shadow, a dark figure, and she was afraid.

Don't hurt me, okay? Her hand shook as she reached out to place it on his shoulder.

Within the fragment of a second her wrist was in a painful grasp and twisted as he turned around to stand tall.

"Please, don't hurt me, okay?" she squeaked her previous thought, as she winced. His hand was cold as ice, she realised. And when she looked at her wrist, fingerless gloves revealed metal fingers pressing into her flesh.

What she didn't see was his eyes widening as his grip loosened, in his own fear.

She grasped her wrist, rubbing it soothingly.

"I'm sorry." she heard his rough voice, sitting back down, his elbows on the table, to continue eating.

"You're eating my food." she sent him a defiant frown. Slowly she sat down beside him, still shaking.

He grunted, shrugging as he shoved another spoon in his mouth.

She stared at him sadly. This… this was what being a hero felt like?

"I saved you, y'know…." she scratched at the table with her nail nervously.

"What?" she heard the man's voice get louder as he turned his head to look at her.

"Y-you fell over me. And I brought you here." she frowned as she watched him intently, squinting slightly.

He grunted, again, and it made her frown deepen, her brows cease as he rose up, his bowl now empty except for the milk.

"You have to drink the milk too, it's the best part!" she commented looking at him with big eyes.

He turned to her and he felt as if he was smiling, though she did not see it.

"No thanks." he turned away but didn't know where he would go from there. He heard her whistle and his head snapped back to her and in another direction as another noise followed.

He watched a dog stumble from the bathroom to the girl as she put the bowl on the ground.

"What's that?" his nose scrunched up as his brows met.

"That's James…." she smiled as she pet the dog that was lapping up the milk.

His brows rose in surprise. James Buchanan 'Bucky' Barnes.

"And your name?" he questioned, to his own surprise he was curious.

"Anna." she looked up at him, still smiling.

"Where are your parents?" he arched a brow at the smile that quickly faded.

It was her turn to shrug, grunt, and look away. He sighed slightly in response and decided to continue his previous movement, turn away from her, and look for something, what he had yet to find out.

"Won't you give me your name?" he heard the girl question.

He waited, he didn't respond, he knew she had something else to say, he heard it.

"Are you… are you hurt?" he closed his eyes, breathing in through his nostrils, happy she decided to drop the former question.

"Yes," he turned back to her and the dog, looking down at them. "which is why I'm going to need your help." he forced a smile, and immediately she returned it.


	4. Chapter 4

Bucky fought to try and get the shower to work, for hours. But for some reason it wouldn't. He was aggravated, but at least that curious kid and the mutt was gone.

He's pulled the torn curtains in front of the windows to wrap the rooms in darkness. The flat was small, one bedroom without a door, a bathroom with a shower, a tub with a broken off faucet and broken sink, the kitchen, and nothing else. The kitchen was equipped with a fridge without handle, empty except for the half full milk carton, two counters, one of them leaning against the back wall as two of its feet had gone missing, and a table with three chairs. Beside that table was a wide armchair, the one he'd nearly missed seeing the girl sleep in when he retreated to the large bed in the otherwise empty bedroom.

It was a sad way of living, but he planned on staying until things calmed down.

He'd sent her to patch up a wound, a bullet wound to be exact. He hadn't told her that, just to get what, and how it looked.

He sat down in the large blue armchair, and rid himself of the stinking leather jacket before pulling his shirt over his head, hissing as the fabric rubbed against the wound by his collarbone, on the right side of his chest.

He was free of Hydra's grasp, he was free of brainwashing, and killing, free of SHIELD hunting him down, for now. _For now, he was free._

Yet, he didn't understand why he felt like crying, he felt vulnerable, lost, alone.

He rested his elbows on his knees, rubbing his hands over his face he sighed. He wanted to cry, just fucking get it over with before that damned kid got back, but he couldn't.

His head was lifted, when he heard keys rattle in hands and a small voice mumble, growing more and more quiet the closer it got.

"Every town, has its ups and down, sometimes the ups outnumber the downs…."

He didn't know the song, it was slow, and didn't sound very happy.

"But not in Nottingham."

Immediately her voice ceased as the door cracked open and the dog sped inside.

He didn't know how but her presence was awfully calming, it felt like home and home he needed. It forced him to be strong, it forced him to _be._

She was alone, he knew it from the start. She was a sad girl, with an amazing smile. He could only guess how old she was, ten perhaps? Eleven?

The girl's heavy backpack made her slump as she walked straight up to him and dropped it by his feet, she gave him a smile as she knelt down to unzip it.

She didn't look at him as she placed one thing after the other in his arms.

"I brought you some Vitamin Juice, you looked a little pale. And here, cereal, thought you might be more hungry than that…. Here's some gauzes, uh plasters, that dis- disin- disinfectant stuff you wanted."

He inevitably smiled as she had trouble pronouncing the name, trying to read it off the bottle. But it faded when he didn't see her eyes catch the word, but just stare and squint at the bottle. She couldn't read.

She zipped the backpack back up, and when she took it in her hands and rose to her feet again he saw her face was sullied. It was no dirty, no mud she could've played in while she was away. It was a black eye, and it was showing quickly. Her eyes were red, like she'd been crying, and it wasn't from the night when he heard her sobbing in her sleep.

"You're hurt." he stated staring at the bruise instantly. Not even he, a master assassin, former master assassin would hurt a child.

She brushed some of her brunette curls away from her dark brown eyes as she looked to her feet for a moment.

"It's just a black eye." she sent him a comforting smile but he just shook his head, putting the things he'd been handed beside him on the ground for him to reach for later.

"Your arm, is it armor?" she asked tilting her head in curiousity, and he quickly realised he'd forgotten to mentally prepare for him to see his metal arm.

"No." his voice was deeper than he'd expected, and he wondered if something was stuck in his throat. With trouble he cleared it, enduring her confused gaze.

"It's a prosthetic. I lost it, I forgot how." he shook his head faintly as he watched her grab the backpack and move to the kitchen counters, opening a few drawers.

He watched her stuff one thing after the other into the small compartments.

"Whatever it was… it must've been dangerous." she said quietly, focused, before she stopped and turned back around to give him a lopsided and weak smile.

"I'm glad you're alive." A curt, slow nod emphasized her words, and for a moment he did believe a kid like her could've 'saved' him.

Hearing her words, he felt something turn inside his stomach, he didn't know if he was sick, or happy, happy that someone was glad he existed.

He looked over to see the puppy roll in the bed he'd slept on previously, it looked happy, almost cute. It helped with the awkward silence Bucky had definitely been the one to bring to life.

"You stole those things, didn't you?" he asked slowly, not hesitating, but he was careful to grasp her reaction.

"I did." she nodded.

"But once I'm rich, I'll pay all of it back, and much more!" she turned around to him, smiling, moving her arms each in a circle as she jumped slightly.

"Once?" he raised his brows, chuckled and smiled as he repeated her words.

"Yeah… well…. I need a plan, and you, you need a haircut." she crossed her arms faking offence.

"Maybe we both do?" he lifted a hand lazily to point at her, and quickly dropped it again, keeping a small grin on his face.

"I know, right? I do! What hero has long hair, right?" she seemed amazed with his statement, absolutely enthused as she babbled nodding all the while. "I keep telling people, it could get caught somewhere, someone could pull on it! It can be so annoying, and distracting!" He had trouble catching up, going over her words, end to beginning.

"A hero?" one of his eyes squinted slightly as he tilted his head to look at her.

"That's what I'd say if people asked me what I'd want to be some day. When I'm old enough, I'll be a hero, like people fantasize those people, the avengers, to be." she smiled, the dimples on her cheeks defined, her eyes sparkling despite the bruise.

"And hey, I'm on my way there! You're actually my first damsel in distress!"

He felt like destroying her fantasy, he was tempted to throw her into reality. _Heroes don't have it well, heroes are never happy, heroes die, heroes get hurt, heroes lose everything. _But then he realised, she didn't have it well, she wasn't always happy, and she'd die, she got hurt, and she had nothing.

"Do you know how much I had to do to get you here?" His eyes shot back at her, as they'd drifted away, with his thoughts.

"What'd you have to do?" he asked halfheartedly, he didn't really care, he was sure it wasn't too much.

But once she began speaking, he realised the girl would move mountains for a stranger. But she was so pleased with a daydream, that reality just wasn't there. And if he thought about it, he wanted her stupid dream to go on forever.

"Okay so, I went to the museum _like every day_. To see _my _hero. A real hero, you know? Sidekicks aren't sidekicks, they are as much heroes as heroes. I'm sure you've heard of Captain America, you have right? Well if you have, then you _have to _know about Bucky Barnes. Actually his name is James Buchanan 'Bucky' Barnes." he chuckled smiling endlessly when she mispronounced his middle name terribly, but he listened to her go on, until his smile dropped and something else took over his face. _That was him. That was his name. He was her… hero?_

"So, then James and I got breakfast, we sat down on the side of the road… an alley to be specific, but that doesn't matter. And then you were there! Well first of all, you kicked me, you just laid there, you scared the… hell out of me! I thought you were dead! So, I knew I had to get you out of the rain that was coming. So I ran home, to that little shop downstairs. I didn't have any money but I knew I had to get that little wagon- cart thing to get you somewhere safer. So I… I just gave the lady James…. I got the cart, and got you here. I ran all day so I fell asleep, I'm sorry I couldn't help you more, I was running basically all day!" Slowly Bucky began to squint at her.

"How'd you get the dog back?" he questioned suspiciously.

"I broke in…." she clearly felt guilty, and pulled up her shoulders as if it would dampen her words. "But she just left him in there! During a thunder storm! He hates thunder storms!" she frowned at him.

"Heroes wouldn't do that….." he scoffed, shaking his head and reaching down to grab the disinfectant.

"I said I'd pay everything back…." she mumbled and he knew that she was as certain as she, that she'd never be able to….

He sighed as she handed him a clean white cloth from a small hanger over the useless counters. He poured the disinfectant over it and began cleaning his wound slowly.

"So why's your shower not working…?" he asked casually.

From the corner of his eyes he saw her hop onto a counter to look at her dangling legs.

"Don't know. Electricity's not working either, obviously." he raised his brows before looking from his task to her in surprise.

"And you still live here, willingly?" he asked, he could've bared the rundown apartment if he hadn't known that.

"Fine then. If you give me the bed, and let me live here, with you if it must be, then I'll help you turn this place into a real home. If you help me 'get' what we need for that, that is." he suggested. He was sure she was naive enough to let a stranger live with her. She'd just dragged him in, literally for christ's sake.

He still had a suspicion that he was just a trophy to her, her first act of heroism, and he let her have it, but still only acted on that fact. "Deal."

"How do you live here alone, without any money anyway?" he frowned focusing back on the wound again.

"Oh that's a funny story too. So this guy used to live here, big guy, european I think. Yeah he died, don't know how, but they cleared this place of all his things, and a day later they announced this place will be torn down completely in five months. I had my eye on this place… kind of, before I lived here I lived down the street, between the dumpsters, y'know. Preparing for heroism." she chuckled slightly.

She was nuts, he'd decided that. But something made him like her, maybe she reminded him a bit of something, of what he had yet to find out. But he knew she would not give up on that naive dream of hers.

He knew she was aware it wasn't 'funny', that how she was living was terrible, but in her eyes, it was only the intro to some 'great story' and she therefore tried to enjoy it.

"And how'd you get that dog of yours?" He couldn't help but ask for another 'fun' story.

"His name is James." she sighed. "And he's not just a dog, he's my sidekick." she muttered.

"Fine, where'd you get 'James the sidekick'?" he sighed rolling his eyes slightly.

"He got me actually, I gave him pizza, he looked hungry, and he followed me home." He realised she wasn't bubbly, like most girls he was used to, in fact he wasn't very used to children at all, she was simply happy, and once he put effort in it, easily identified happiness.

"I… could you maybe fix the window in the bedroom now, then?" she looked from her feet to them.

"Is it broken?" he questioned surprised, he hadn't bothered to look around, when he went to sleep there.

"Some kids threw stones, and it broke…." she shrugged.

"Were you one of those kids?" he arched a brow at her.

"Maybe…." she mumbled and he shook his head at her.

"Do you have any tools, something to board it up with in case it rains again?" he asked her, praying she did.

"Yes! I mean, kind of, you could take this counter apart, I don't need it, not any more than we need complete windows." she kicked her foot against the front of it before letting it swing back and forth slightly again, like the other.

_We? _He found himself slightly frightened she might grow some form of attachment to him, but then again, he didn't really mind…. She needed some protection, and he needed some company, it didn't matter if it was a dog and some kid.

"Alright, just give me a minute, okay kid?"

"Don't call me that, robocop."

"What does that even mean?"

"I don't know."


	5. Chapter 5

Her black eye had disappeared and thankfully, the girl was good with running, and running errands, however long it took for she could not steal many large items at once and had to run from one store to the other as not to get caught.

But the house was slowly growing more and more homely, and Bucky had helped with the lack of water. It rained an awful lot, and he was the one carrying the buckets of rain water from in front of the door to their home. She only needed one, while he needed about four.

It really did feel like home, it didn't feel like a prison like he had suspected it would, a place he couldn't leave, but it felt safe, it felt happy and that was only because….

"James!"

"Mhm." Bucky groaned, his arms crossed as he tried to sleep in the chair some more. She'd dragged him out of the now clean bed, the fresh sheets were calling for him to return, but the kid wouldn't have it.

"Not you." he heard her walk past him and to the dog that now had his own bed where the kitchen counter used to be.

"How about you call your sidekick something else. That name's getting old real fast." he muttered, his eyes remaining closed as he pulled the curtains behind him shut for the morning light not to disturb him.

He heard her pick the dog up and hold him in her arms. Within the month they'd spent together, the dog had grown immensely, and he knew she was beginning to have trouble carrying the animal. He felt somewhat bad, he had been the perfect size for her to carry around with her, he definitely didn't fit under her hoodie anymore. But on the other hand, soon he wouldn't have to worry she wouldn't return from one of her stupid excursions, for maybe the dog could protect her once it was big enough.

"We're going, to see Bucky." she said simply. Like every damn morning.

He gave her a small 'hn', and opened one of his eyes a gap to watch her leave, the dog on her arms.

He smiled at the silence, he liked the distraction she could be, but goddamn was silence good. Bucky sighed however, and got up, as his stomach growled. As he searched through the cabins to pick what he'd want amongst the very few things the place was offering he found himself humming. Not anything, but that song the girl always hummed when she thought he wouldn't hear. He couldn't remember the words, and the melody only vaguely, but somehow it was still stuck in his mind.

He knew no other song, nothing to replace it with. The world was different, of course, and maybe this really was a prison, maybe he should just up and leave, leave the isolation he'd mistaken for content living.

Yes, that was a good idea, but first came breakfast, and then he'd look for some things he could take with him.

He ate slowly, deep in thought, his expression violently monotone. _Please, don't hurt me, okay?_

_You're eating my food._

_I saved you, y'know…._

_I'm glad you're alive._

Was her voice really as childlike as he remembered? Had he forgotten, she was just a child? He gave his country his all, and now he was nothing. But not to her, he was no trophy or some proof, to her, he was simply hope.

_When I'm old enough, I'll be a hero._

_James Buchanan 'Bucky' Barnes …. a real hero, y'know?_

He groaned, dropping the silver spoon into the porcelain bowl, running his hands through his hair slowly as he held his head.

Had he just now come to his senses? Realised, that everything he'd done so far, was extraordinarily stupid, and naive? He was damned, caught in some mess, he'd been the one afraid she'd grow attached to him, and she had, surely, but so had he in return.

He couldn't leave, what the hell was he thinking, the kid wouldn't survive without him, and within four more months she'd be back on the streets, and probably take better care of that damned dog than herself.

Some street rat taught him honour, some kid did her all _for him._

And he'd be damned if he disappointed her now, he was in too deep. He didn't dare guess where he'd be without her, if SHIELD had found him, or worse Hydra… he'd be more dead than he already was.

Sighing he retreated back to bed, to sleep for the rest of the day, for the two had made a contract, Sunday was the day they were free to do whatever, and aside from that, there was hardly anything left to fix. Except for him, but he knew she'd take care of that, slowly.


	6. Chapter 6

Bucky awoke with a start, sitting up immediately in the sheets when he heard a high pitched scream, and barks from the usually quiet dog.

This wasn't another nightmare, and he knew he was awake, scrambling to his feet he ran, over the large bet, to the kitchen, barely catching himself on the doorframe as he stared at the scene.

Men in black, helmets, guns. Holding Anna and Jamie.

"Step back, hands over your head." The voice was familiar, and he couldn't even count the men standing in his doorframe, _their _doorframe. Nor could he say which one the voice came from. All he could do was lift his hands, fold them over the back of his head, trying not to look at the girl with the black gloved hand over her mouth.

One of the men stepped forward, to the barking dog at their feet, and the girl immediately began to struggle against their grip.

"Anna." Bucky warned and she stopped, staring at him with wide eyes as his fell on hers. He looked at her sadly, as if apologizing, but he smiled slightly. He was proud of her, all she'd done, but now it was over.

"Mister Barnes, if you'd please come with us." a man stepped through the crowd in the doorframe, in a nice suit, and not some gear to kill like the others. He knew that voice, this was SHIELD, and his name was Phil Coulson, that much he remembered.

The girls eyes widened and his eyes quickly left her, in shame.

He'd had the time to tell her, but not the courage. And his time was limited, perhaps over, forever now, but she never lacked courage.

He nodded in silence, the smile on his lips taken away, and replaced with a frown.

He couldn't fight, couldn't run, not with her in their hands.


	7. Chapter 7

"She's cute." Clint Barton shrugged looking through the one way mirror, his arms crossed. "But why's a little girl here?" he turned to Agent Coulson, arching a brow.

"You might not believe it, but that little girl alone tried to hide The Winter Soldier from us."

"Her name's Anna Grace Brusek, parents live in Tallahassee, Florida. We've contacted them, no responses so far. We don't know if she ran away, was abandoned, nothing. People have described her to the police though, at least we think so. For theft, burglary, and some other petty stuff kids in need tend to do." Coulson read out of the file in his hands.

"That doesn't explain why she's here either." Clint dead-panned.

"I was about to say, there's something special, odd if you will, about her." he pulled out a screen he'd held beneath the file and Clint was shown a video file of various images.

Images with date and time on them, they changed from one to the other too quickly, but it didn't matter. She was on each of them, and it looked like it barely changed, sometimes the lighting did, her clothes rarely did. She was always sitting in front of the small monument, with the howling commandos, specifically Bucky Barnes. Clint was bemused by the dog, he liked dogs, Pizza was his officially now after all, the dog on the video though he merely saw the silhouette of. The best part was its ears, different every day, one straight up, the other floppy, switching places and positions, and he saw it grow. It made the grim footage a note more light hearted.

"What? His time travelling sister slash daughter with her fetus attack dog?" Clint joked looking at Coulson incredulously.

"She refuses to talk, she knows we wouldn't hurt her… either that or she doesn't care, she says she'd only talk to The Winter Soldier." Coulson looked back at Clint with what looked like the expression one would make when they shrugged, but he was as helpless as the other agents.

"You know how we found them? How we found him? She broke into some shop, to get that dog over there. The owner said, she sold her a cart, and she payed with her dog, all she had. She said she saw her wheel the 'strange man' into the building. She said she waited to go to the police because she was scared." Coulson muttered, shaking his head continuously.

"Let me try to talk to her, I'm good with kids." Clint grinned slightly and without giving Coulson the chance to speak, made his way in the grey interrogation room.

He'd talked to children… once or twice. But the sight of a kid, a young girl in handcuffs in such a grim room made him awfully uncomfortable.

He gave a small thumbs up to the wall he knew Coulson was behind before turning to the girl who was twiddling her thumbs.

"Heyyyyyyy." he slowly sat down in front of her, obviously attempting to hide how uncomfortable he was.

He observed her every detail however. Her wrist was slightly bruised, an old, almost entirely faded bruise, and it definitely wasn't from the handcuffs. It made him disbelieve she was something like Barnes' sister. She was skinny as a twig, unhealthily, but she was awfully muscular, like she went jogging, and never stopped. Her clothes had small holes in them, all over. She had greasy, chin-length brunette hair, her eyes were brown, and in the strobe light above them, almost orange.

She let out a huff, through her nose and immediately Clint felt obligated to break the silence.

"You've never been caught, have you…?" he tilted his head at her. He was an orphan himself, long ago, but he had his brother back then, nonetheless, they were amongst thieves, and he knew one when he saw one. And he knew the pressure of a young one well.

Her eyes flickered up to his, to hold her gaze, looking back down she mumbled a "No."

Silence followed once more, and Clint felt helpless. Why did he opt to talk to her again? He had no idea what to say, he surely wasn't allowed to somehow console her, and even if he was, he wouldn't know how.

"Where's James?" she asked picking at the nail bed of her thumb with her other hand.

"He'd probably being interrogated right now, too." He always thought speaking to children like they were adults was best, being honest, was best.

"You know dogs can't talk, right?" she glared at him, and he looked confused.

"James… oh! The dog?" he chuckled stiffly, and she gave him a deadpanned look.

"Well he's right outside, unfortunately you can't see him right now, but don't worry he's in good hands. Agent Hill's really taken a liking to him." he smiled at her crossing his arms on the black tabletop her hands were resting on.

"Who was the man, really….?" she asked nearly whispering, directing her eyes back to her hands.

Something about the way she said it, made his heart break. "His name is Bucky Barnes, he's a veteran from the second world war. He was brainwashed then, and used as an assassin, but he got away from the people that did that to him after a mission went wrong." _Dumbass, you can't talk to a kid like that._

He watched her nod, as if thanking him, and sniffle. "You know what, let me take these off ya." he mumbled and reached for the keys on his belt to unlock her handcuffs and take them off her. Who the hell even had the great idea to put a kid in handcuffs?

Immediately she wiped the back of her hand under her nose, sniffling again as he saw a tear roll down her cheek, her eyes hidden as she looked to her hands.

"So he- he's not a hero?" His heart broke from two, into a thousand pieces as her voice skipped.

"Oh, no sweetheart. He was, some bad things happened to him, and his memory was lost. But I'm sure he'll get back up there…." he mumbled and his hand reached over the slim table to grasp hers, his hand over her fist, rubbing it with his thumb.

Her life seemed to unfold in front of his eyes. She didn't go to see him because she knew him, but because she wished she did, because he was her hero.

"So he _doesn't know _he's a hero?" finally she looked up, her eyes blurred by her tears.

"No, but I'll tell you something. Right in this moment, people are trying to help him remember, and they won't stop until he does, or at least knows that he is a hero." He felt sick, saying that, that the man that killed so many people, and did so much damage… was a hero. But he too had such baggage to carry, and this only added more guilt.

She smiled slightly at that, and placed her thumb in her mouth, to tear at the skin she'd tried to remove with her hand. He didn't stop her, only watched her, his lips forming a thin line as he tried to smile back.

"There's a few things we have to do before we let either of you go though." he lied. Letting her 'go', they would, but to her parents, if they finally got a hold of them.

"We'll have to get you checked out by a doctor, I'm sure you understand that, and then you'll just have to wait some more until everything's in order for your leave." he forced a brighter smile, before getting up, and holding the door for her.

Sullenly, she followed him down one hall after the other, to the laboratory of Stark Tower.

While SHIELD was trying to… rebuild, they resided there, 'Stark Tower' that was now the Avengers Tower.

"Banner." Clint strolled inside, the girl on his trail. Bruce Banner looked up from being emerged in the work on his desk, removing his glasses. He noticed, that as soon as his name was said, the girl stopped moving, standing in the doorframe like a deer in the headlights.

"Hi." he gave her a wave, and a kind smile. Was she frightened of him? He guessed so, and it hurt him, for he had always loved children.

"Banner, this is Anna." he introduced. Bruce had a look of enlightenment on his face. No wonder she was frightened then, an eleven year old girl locked up with a killer was bound to be in a constant state of fright.

"She needs to be checked out." Clint looked to his side, expecting her to stand there, but she wasn't.

He looked over his shoulder, only to spin around the other direction to look at her.

He let out a small 'oh no', that neither of them heard, and he saw it wasn't fright that had grasped her but awe.

"You're the Hulk!" she whispered to herself, her mouth remaining agape as she continued to stare at Banner.

Clint saw a smile slowly spread on Bruce's face. Goddamnit he was now in a room of giddy kids.

"I am." Bruce moved in his chair to sit facing her, although she was across the room.

Clint walked over to her, bent his knees and whispered 'That is also a hero' in her ear, chuckling slightly.

"But let the hero do his job, alright?" he rose back up, smiling at Banner. He'd much rather have her idolize a good guy, that surely was one, than an unstable one.

She looked at Clint and he raised his brows, waiting for her response, and she nodded.

"Bruce, do your thing." Clint clicked his tongue and stalked out, leaving the girl standing alone, awkwardly.

Bruce rose from his chair to walk to some pure white counters in the corner, to pick up his stethoscope.

"I'm just gonna check your heart first, alright?" he turned around to her and she nodded, hesitating before she made her way over to him.

He let out a small groan when he picked her up and sat her on the counter, he heard her chuckle when he grabbed her waist. "Ticklish, huh?" he chuckled.

She nodded, giggling like only a kid could.

"Alright now you have to be still, okay? So I can check your heart." he smiled brightly as he popped the stethoscope in his ears. He put the cold metal on her chest, what little part the fabric of a shirt, hoodie, and sleeveless jean jacket didn't cover.

"I thought you didn't exist…." It sounded awfully impactful, coming from within her.

"What…?" he mumbled pulling the plugs out of his ears to stare at you.

"What do you mean, I don't exist…?" he frowned.

"I don't know…. I only heard about you, I never saw you… I didn't see any of you 'heroes'. I only saw the destruction… and I never saw what you saved us from either. You are close, but I never had proof you existed, the heroes so much farther away, seemed more real. Heroes like Bucky." Now he understood the odd look on Clint's face.

"But we do exist, you know that now, right?" he raised his brows, lowering his head to look in her eyes.

"And you know what, the guy that just brought you here, he's Hawkeye. And I'm sure you met Agent Coulson, he's not too bad himself." Bruce smiled at her.

Her eyes grew the size of plates as her mouth fell agape. "What? Hawkeye?" she stared at him in awe.

"Yes, and you know what? Black Widow, Iron Man, Thor _and _Captain America, might be in this tower right this moment…." he continued. "Just." he poked her chest with his index finger once. "Like." twice. "You." three times.

She was speechless, obviously, which only caused his smile to widen.

"Okay, now I'll have to check your vision, alright?" he smiled and grabbed a chart to begin some vision tests.

Slowly his smile faded as he saw something awfully familiar in her behavior. She was blind on one eye, and the other was short sighted.

"Alright, I'm gonna… get you some glasses, you'll need them." he didn't know what to do, he refused to call someone in, and he couldn't just leave her there.

"Would you… come with me?" he lifted her off the counter and smiled down at her slightly.

She didn't seem phased by the fact she needed glasses, in fact it looked like she could not care less.

He grabbed a small notepad and wrote down the details he needed before instinctively grabbing her hand in his and walking out of the white room.

"Not five…." she mumbled pulling her hand out of his and he chuckled, taking note of not holding her hand as not to hurt her pride any more as he pressed a button on the elevator.


	8. Chapter 8

Maybe, just maybe leaving her with Thor was not a great idea….

"Please? I'm asking you nicely, I could just take it."

"Take it? I'd like to see you try, little lady."

"Oh yeah, then watch."

Bruce sighed as he watched the spectacle.

There was no way the kid could lift the 'holy hammer'. She'd tried, when Thor hadn't responded to Bruce's calls yet, and failed.

She groaned, her hands wrapped around the hilt, her feet beside it as she squatted to summon more strength.

Thor released booming laughter as her face slowly turned red during her struggle. Bruce simply left, trusting Thor with the girl's safety as he had to get her some glasses.

"Alright, that's enough." Thor lifted the hammer easily, and she removed her hands from it, sighing she blew a strand of hair out of her face.

"The name's Anna." she glared sullenly at him, hardly trying anymore.

"My sidekick could surely lift it." she crossed her arms as she sat down on the ugly leather sofa beside him.

"Sidekick? So where is your companion now?" Thor raised his brows smiling at her.

"I don't know, the bad guys won't give him back to me." She shrugged slightly, clearly, now reminded of that fact, saddened.

"They're holding your friend prisoner?" he questioned surprised.

"Yes." she mumbled.

"And my other friend too." she added, nodding slightly, being sure to remind herself more than him.

"Why are you here anyway?" the god continued asking, and refused to stop until he was satisfied. The girl had fire in her, and he enjoyed her company very much. He hadn't had a conversation with a Midgardian child until now.

"Well the bad guys just showed up, they took Jamie from me, and I don't know what they did to… Bucky…." She gazed into nothingness as she said the latter name, hesitant to let it leave her lips. She held what could only be called, the million mile stare.

She was awfully tired, and her brain knew no boundaries anymore, and she just wanted to cry, again.

Thor nodded, looking in the same direction she was, at the blank TV, but unlike her, he did not look beyond it.

"I think I have a good companion for you." Thor rose from his sitting to look to the ceiling.

"Jarvis." he boomed, looking around the ceiling.

"Yes, sir?" the AI with the calming British accent responded.

The girl gasped moving closer to Thor as if trying to hide. "What was that?"

"That's Jarvis, he's a friend of Stark's." Thor smiled down at her.

"Ask him something." he urged.

She looked up at the ceiling with him, smiling slightly before asking, "When's the next time there's going to be a thunderstorm?" she asked.

"Engines suggest there is a large front coming towards New York, it is very likely that there will be one tonight, and pan out over the next few days." The voice replied.

Thor took immediate notice of the girl's sad expression returning.

"What's wrong with that?"


	9. Chapter 9

What a mission this was…. It was a great exception, so much effort, for a random kid. They could've just handed her over to authorities, let them handle it. But orders were orders.

Coulson stood beside Clint, and exchanging one last glance, Coulson rang the doorbell.

The couple had refused to speak to them over the phone, or any other means of communication, they demanded a face to face exchange.

The door opened and into their sight was brought a couple, average, and Clint definitely saw the girl's face in theirs.

"Mister Brusek, Miss Brusek." Coulson shook their hands and Clint merely nodded in greeting as they were invited in.

They sat down at the dining table in silence, the table as blank as the couple's expression.

He was blonde, lanky, tall. She had brown long curls, messy, and clearly had some stress issues. Her fingers bore wounds around the nails. They were definitely the right people.

"Let's not waste time on formalities, shall we?" Phil folded his hands on the table giving them a smile that showed sarcasm he did not try to hide.

The couple nodded. There was guilt in the air, awareness that whatever they'd done wrong was indeed to be of consequence.

"You are aware that Anna Grace is your responsibility, correct?" They nodded.

"Why is it then, that you are here, and she is in New York City, alone?" Coulson continued.

Clint's curiosity was killing him. He didn't like them, it wasn't what they'd done, or maybe it was, but he was certain their demeanor set great input on his dislike.

The man was about to speak up but his wife put her hand on his chest looking at the two agents before speaking for him, hesitatingly.

"We can't… couldn't take care of her, we didn't have the money, or the time." The woman sounded desperately guilty, as if she was pleading for their forgiveness as subtly as she could.

"You must be very proud of her then, she seems to have learned to take better care of herself than you tried to." Coulson's lips formed a thin line.

"When was the last time you saw her?" Clint asked, his voice rough as he stared monotonically at them.

The pair looked at each other, and this time it was him that spoke up. "Seven years ago."

"So let me get this straight." Clint moved forward in his chair, to rest his own arms on the table, crossed, to stare the two in the eye. Coulson gave him a look, knowing he could easily ruin this 'interview' by simply acting on emotion.

"You gave her away, your own daughter, I'm guessing your only child, at two years old. _Not caring _if she dies, which was very likely, _is _very likely if someone decided she be handed back to you. You sent her away, but to whom?" The couple grew more and more nervous with each word they said, and grasped one another's hand for 'support'.

"Her aunt." the father said.

"And where's she?" Coulson questioned, narrowing his eyes as he lifted his chin for a moment, urging them to go on.

"She died, heart attack…. Four years ago." The brunette, green eyed woman replied quietly.

Clint scoffed inwardly, was she really more worried about her sister than her own child?

"And what?" Coulson grew more impatient, but now angry, more confused than anything.

"We came to pick her up, but she was gone." Now, the man's voice rose, defending himself and his wife.

It was Clint's turn to raise his voice, higher, louder as he rose from his chair, his palms resting on the tabletop to look down at them.

"And you didn't bother to report a kid as gone? Do you know how low the chance of a six year old, _surviving _nowhere is? You couldn't even go look for her, you just fucking left? "He growled, scowling.

"We didn't have the time or money!" the man rose to his feet as well, and Coulson simply watched.

"You should have thought of that before you had a goddamned child!"


End file.
